A Wizard in a World of Devils
by VileMalfoys
Summary: Harry Potter sacrifices himself, taking Voldemort down with him - and this results in our favorite wizard ending up in a world with dangerous beings, where the supernatural never ends. A hugely alternate universe, and no cliches. Powerful, but not overpowered Harry.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or High School DxD.

"Welcome to the Department of Mysteries." Said a female voice. Harry walked out into a circular room, his face impassive. His wand was held loosely, ready to spring up at a moment's notice. Torches with blue flames lit the long, cold corridor, looking oddly forbidding. Harry paused for a moment, taking in the sight before him, before walking forward.

The corridor was bathed in green light as Harry waved his wand. He looked unsurprised. He waved it again, and again, and again, his wand glowing with green light with each wave. Finally, one last blue spark shot out of his wand, settling on the ground in a line five feet in front of Harry. Harry followed it with a curious look, stepping forward to observe it. A white line with intricate runes carved into it blocked his path, humming with magical energy. No doubt the work of a master warder.

The black-haired wizard gave it a smile, going through curse-breaking patterns in his mind. Age lines were one of the most versatile wards possible. While it wouldn't stop any more than three to five men, it could pack quite the punch when aimed at a single target.

Harry whispered a brief incantation. Black seeped from nowhere into the white of the age line, with bits of red in it. Another small incantation later, it was just black.

'Ostende te," he muttered. He tried to concentrate as best as he could, but it was not needed. He was so familiar with the feel of the spell that it began to work as soon as he had verbalized it. Some more colors appeared in the black line, and slowly began to grow. He sat down and tapped the line with his wand twice. The process sped up, the black completely eradicated, with the other colors now forming the previous white.

It was a daring curse. A plethora of lethal defenses carefully hid as an Irremovable age line. At least one great magical artifact had been sacrificed while creating this piece of magic. What the ward lacked in subtlety, it more than made up for in power. The work of Dolohov, most probably.

But Harry was no novice. A student he may have been, but there were few in Britain whose magical ken surpassed his. The defensive curse would have obliterated a lesser wizard, and probably Dolohov himself, but to Harry, it was child's play.

He regarded the white line again. He had made it degrade into a normally functioning age line, but any more than that was impossible without considerable effort. It had been bestowed Irremovability for at least two hours, if Harry had to guess, and waiting wasn't an option.

He stepped over it, and the blue flames were instantly extinguished. His wand flared with silvery fire, which coalesced into a shield just in time to stop three Stunners. More curses, seven yellow and one an angry purple, clashed with his shield, which showed no signs of damage.

"Hello, Mrs. Lestrange, Mr. Crabbe.. and Lucius." Harry said. He got a cackle in answer.

"Oh, he is smart! I see what the Dark Lord meant, now." Bellatrix Lestrange said. Her voice had grown coarser since the time she had been given a trial.

Someone's wand burst with light. Harry was temporarily blinded, and his shield flickered for a moment. No spell, however, hit it. When his vision returned, he was greeted to the sight of a brutish man standing with Lucius Malfoy to the right of the corridor. Crabbe, the Death Eater, stood with Bellatrix to the left.

"Lucius, am I?" Malfoy smiled sharply. "Your snark rivals your father's. The Dark Lord will see to it, I am sure."

"Would he?" Harry asked in a bored voice. "Have I become significant enough that Lord Voldemort himself has decided to grace me with his presence?"

"Do not speak his name!" Bellatrix screamed, and a curse leapt from her wand. It fizzled out of existence halfway to Harry. Lucius Malfoy's wand was out

"Bellatrix, we have strict orders from the Dark Lord himself to bring back the prophecy!" He spat at his sister-in-law. "Do not do anything that may harm Potter, he is the only one who can get it for us!"

"He dared insult our Lord! He dared to speak the Dark Lord's name when greater wizards have cowered before the migh-"

She stopped suddenly, looking down at her chest. A scythe had embedded itself in the middle of her bosoms, causing blood to trickle out. She pulled the scythe out, as if in a trance, and promptly collapsed. The scythe fell to the ground with a ringing clang.

"Chimera venom. I believe Narcissa's sister has a minute left to live." Harry said amiably to the looks of disbelief. "What, you believed I would not kill any of you?"

They looked wary now. "Lucius, take her." Said a large, strong-looking man with a feminine face. Avery, if Harry had guessed right. "We will handle Potter."

Malfoy appeared conflicted. Harry recognized it for what it was: a play for power. Malfoy must have been in charge of this operation, if the Order's sources were right. Avery was one of the most skilled of the Death Eaters, having a nigh flawless record in the duelling circuit, but he was held back by his muggle father and insignificant wealth. Malfoy would have been made the leader, if only to appease his ego.

If Malfoy went back with the Prophecy, the status quo would become that much hard to climb for Avery. But if Avery brought the Prophecy to Voldemort, without the aid of two highly positioned Death Eaters, he would be inducted into the Inner Circle.

Malfoy must have understood it. His eyes drifted towards Bellatrix's body and then back to Avery's face. "Do not fail our Lord." He muttered, frustration visible on his face. He picked up Bellatrix and apparated with a pop.

'Stupefy!' Avery belted out immediately. Harry's wand didn't move as an almost shield flared into life in front of him. The curse was sent right back to Avery, who erected a small magical barrier hastily. Crabbe sent a bludgeoning spell towards Harry, who brought down the shield, dodging the spell.

Four more spells closed in on Harry who directed them back to their creators. Avery created a physical barrier to stop the spell. A foolish move, Harry thought, as a Blasting Curse destroyed it. The cloud of shrapnel impaired Harry's vision, but his counter must have drawn blood, if two twin screams for help were anything to go by. Avery walked out blindly, clutching his eyes. A white lance of fire burned off half of his face, and a Diffindo severed his head.

One to go, Harry thought. Crabbe was a grown wizard, but he was useless in combat, if the Order's sources were anything to go by. Harry could beat him with his hands tied behind his back.

The cloud of shrapnel wasn't settling down, however. Harry frowned. The grey tinge to it began to change to blue, and swirling masses of dust rose from the ground to join the cloud. It was magic beyond Crabbe, surely. The skill it would take surpassed Harry himself.

Harry sent a huge ball of fire, burning with searing heat, towards Crabbe. It should have been stopped easily, for the attack involved no magic in anything other than the conjuration, but it went in. Crabbe's scream was different from Bellatrix's - a brutish grunt preceded it, before he screamed with all his might for a second. Then, it stopped.

Crabbe was dead, Harry surmised. He had to be. But the magic behind the dark cloud that blocked his path to the Time Chamber persisted. The caster's death should undo his magic instantly, unless...

There was another wizard here. It all made sense now. The dust, the shrapnel.. Harry was not the only wizard in the Department of Mysteries.

There was another of his enemies, and it was one he had hoped to meet.

"How very rude of me, to greet the servants but not the master. Hello, Lord Voldemort." Deathly green curses shot out of the cloud of shrapnel. A murder of crows materialized and vanished as they were hit by the killing curse.

Voldemort raised his pale, reptile head out of the dark cloud that surrounded him. "Hello, Harry Potter."

Alarm bells went off in Harry's head. The building he was standing in was the most secure in the world. It had to be, since the Department of Mysteries operated inside it. An infiltration of the second lowest level of the Ministry of Magic had led to the creation of the Animal Hortos, a cover up for the secretive Unspeakables. At day, the Animal Hortos was the most famous zoo in the magical world. At night, scholars gathered to defend Britain from countless threats.

That a wizard as notorious as Lord Voldemort could be in the lair of the Unspeakables was terrifying. That Voldemort could be walking into the building looking completely like Crabbe Senior, when there were considerable defenses against Polyjuice Potion and glamor charms was even more terrifying.

"I promise I will leave once I kill you. The Department of Mysteries will never invent something I couldn't, if I was interested enough. The nation's secrets will remain safe." Voldemort said. "You, Harry Potter, are far more interesting than Croaker and his goons. I had heard about your performance in academics. I had heard about your excellence in magic. I had failed to enter Hogwarts myself to test it, but I had it on good authority that you were a student who came by in a century. Horace Slughorn's last words."

Harry stiffened. Slughorn was a former Potions Master at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore thought him vital to the war. His death would be a crippling blow if Harry failed to do what he had set out to accomplish.

"And you truly are an amazing wizard for your age, aren't you? Bellatrix may have died by now. Avery, a fine dueller, dead. Lucius left before the true depth of your skill had dawned on him. You remind me of myself, when I was your age."

Harry gathered all his hate and threw a killing curse at Voldemort. It struck him square in the face harmlessly. It wasn't enough.

"Except the hate, of course. And the affinity for the magicks of the mind. I am surprised, Harry. One would think that a wizard of your talent would not be fooled by legilimency weakened by distance and the protective wards on Hogwarts. But here you are, in the Animal Hortos, all alone. No cavalry to the rescue for you." Voldemort drew out the last word. A huge snake of ice appeared. It occurred to Harry that having a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him had some uses, like being able to speak Parseltongue. All snakes, whether real or artificially made with magic, could be spoken to. It was Tom Riddle's only publication as a student, in an academic journal published in Peru.

The snake merely observed him. He half-expected an attack, but something told him that Voldemort hadn't magicked her into existence to kill him. His suspicions were confirmed when the snake vanished with an yellow glow.

"Albus Dumbledore is attempting to enter the building. I daresay he would have annihilated the protections by himself, had it not been for my spells." Voldemort spoke. "A great wizard, that Dumbledore. The greatest of our age. The snake will stall for time."

The smell of blood and burnt flesh wasn't enough to take Harry's mind off Voldemort's words. "Greatest." He said. It sounded like a question.

"Yes, greatest." Voldemort hissed. "He is older than I am and, as much as it pains me to say, more intelligent than I am. Magic comes to him easily, Harry Potter, more easily than it does to you or me. But even Albus Dumbledore cannot do anything, when I assume complete control over the Ministry. And this is the first step I take, a journey into the Animal Hortos to take something I desire, and kill my prophesied bane in the process."

Voldemort was here to kill him, Harry thought furiously. He must have been hiding with the aid of his charms, observing the battle between his death eaters and his 'prophesied bane'. Why not enter the battle himself?

Harry voiced the question.

Voldemort smiled with all the intent of a snarl. "Because I wished to see how far you had come since you had single-handedly slaughtered an army of goblins. In your third year, no less. It has been a long time since then, Harry Potter. I am impressed. Two of my best, and another adult in one encounter. This duel promises to be a challenging one. I haven't had too many of those since your father, so please excuse my enthusiasm."

Harry grit his teeth. "So you let me kill them? That's how much they mean to you?"

"They have their uses. They are my slaves, you know. What good would they be, if they didn't amuse their master?"

Iron spikes raced towards Voldemort, who changed them into angry, hissing snakes. A concentrated wave of heat melted them, and a thunderclap followed, causing Harry's ears to bleed. It was wand-based alchemy that Harry was going to attempt. Crude, but powerful.

Voldemort's magic was upon him, quick as lightning, but they didn't strike him. Instead, they were sent back to Voldemort, along with a lasso of silver fire.

It was a modified version of the spell Harry had used on Avery. Pomel's Pose needed years to be perfected, but when you understood the inner workings of the spell you were about to use, it worked flawlessly. Voldemort had cancelled the spells that were returned to him, but he struggled under the might of alchemy. Dumbledore was right. Voldemort hadn't dabbled in the Old Arts.

This spell would either kill Voldemort, or Harry would die at Voldemort's hands. It was a trick he had saved for this battle, an alchemy-based spell whose power was exponentially increased by sacrifices. Harry had given up his ability to perform the Patronus Charm, and magic had decided it drastic. He banked on this winning the fight. Otherwise, Voldemort would run away with whatever he desired and millions would die.

Harry wasted no time, aiming simple cutting charms at Voldemort's throat to force him to take his mind off the other, more threatening attack. The Dark Lord's eyes widened, and he focused all his attention on dispelling the charms. The lasso struck him in the face, eating away at the flesh. It wasn't dark magic, but no amount of healing would bring back what alchemy took. The International Confederate of Wizards banned alchemy for a reason.

One cutting charm escaped Voldemort's notice, slicing his throat as the full force of the lasso evaporated the whole of Tom Riddle. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Alchemy would destroy Voldemort. This victory would buy the Light five years, at least. Enough time to end Voldemort permanently.

Harry walked on, the torches lighting up with blue flames with a thought. The corridor led to a massive, empty hall. It looked like a prison, with the black tiled floor and the colorless walls.

"I seek peace. Reveal!" Harry said. Not a real spell, but he would have to improvise. Three doors appeared on the wall to his left, as black as the floor. Curiously, there were no doorknobs.

"Open!" He tried, but the door did not budge. "Open!" He tried again, to no avail. What could be done?

It became steadily apparent that the doors didn't have the idea of entry in their existence. They weren't made to let people in. How did the Unspeakables work, if that was the case?

Perhaps he had triggered some defense mechanism while battling the Death Eaters and then Voldemort? Probable. So all he had to do now was wait for the Headmaster to appear. He had been disapproving of the ideas Harry had sprung on him. Harry remembered their most recent conversation, in the Room of Requirement, after they had destroyed Ravenclaw's Diadem. It was much too altruistic, he had said, and had offered to sacrifice his life to spare his protege's. But in the end, he had let Harry make his own decisions. Dumbledore was awesome that way.

But Harry didn't want to rely on Dumbledore. Not for this. He'd find a way around the doors.

Harry tapped the door in the center, wishing for it to vanish. It did. He asked for it again, and the door took its place between the two beside it. Another tap, another command, and the door vanished. But this time, Harry focused on bringing back a door that would allow entry to wherever this place was connected magically. He had sensed it the moment he entered the hall- centuries of work in the old Ministry of Magic, shipped off to the newly constructed Animal Hortos, connected by some obscure magic. To get to the Time Chamber, he would have to use that connection.

The shape of a door appeared, with a half-formed doorknob, but that was enough for him. The doorknob was useless in itself, but it symbolized entry. A gesture of magic itself.

"Open." Harry said. The blackness of the door was gone, and in its place Harry saw more blackness. He closed his eyes, and stepped in.

There was the feeling of being doused in warm liquid, before it passed. When he opened his eyes, he saw a massive structure in the middle of the space he had appeared in - built by geniuses who had made enough sense of the whims of magic to build this monstrosity. The whole space he was standing in was not real - like the door, it was not a real room. It was based on the idea of shelter, of sanctuary. He was in the Time Chamber, of that there was no doubt, and it was here that his life would come to end.

A flash of fire, and there was Dumbledore, with Fawkes perched on his shoulder. Voldemort's ruined body floated beside him.

"You are sure, Harry?" Dumbledore said. He looked his age, for a change. "This is the path you choose?"

"I am sure, Professor." Harry said. "This is the path I choose."

There was a moment of silence. "I am proud of you." Dumbledore croaked, as tears formed in his blue eyes. Harry looked at him, and tried to convey all the love and gratitude he felt towards the man he had come to regard as a grandfather. No more words were needed between them.

He walked to the enormous piece of magic the Time Chamber housed. It couldn't actually change the events of the past. For all the Unspeakables knew, it couldn't do anything. The Restructuring Bill that would soon be passed would discard it as a failed project, and the taxpayers' money would fund some other department, some other magical research. No one had grasped the nature or power of the Time Machine, as they called it. And they wouldn't, ever.

It was ready to be discarded when the Ministry would pull the plug. The Time Machine shimmered, not completely in this realm, and it fit Harry's plans perfectly. No magical calculation supported what he was going to do, but this was beyond the abilities of the average Arithmancer. Albus Dumbledore had said it was a fifty-fifty. That was all the support he needed.

Harry wasn't a horcrux anymore, but carrying a piece of another being's soul left its mark. He had also possessed Tom Riddle's diary, had the brother wand to Voldemort, willingly let his mind be violated and employed passive Occlumency to fool Voldemort into entering the Department of Mysteries. He shared a connection with the Dark Lord. The Time Machine was but a simple enchantment that worked along the same lines as a time turner, but the Order had pulled enough strings to let Dumbledore tinker with it. All it took was a few waves of the Elder Wand, and the Time Machine didn't just center on the concept of Time. No, now, it was also relevant to Dimensions.

It was impossible to track down all of Voldemort's horcruxes in time. They had destroyed the Diary, the Diadem, the Cup and the horcrux inside Harry, but the others eluded him. Dumbledore had almost found out another piece of Voldemort's soul - but he hadn't, yet. If either he or Harry was killed, there would be no hope. And thus, Harry's planned sacrifice.

"Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, Professor."

Dumbledore wordlessly handed the cup to him. Harry held it in one of his hands, and stood within a feet of the machine. It was protected by a ward resembling the Fidelius Charm, impairing Harry's perception, but he could feel it.

Voldemort's body came to rest beside his feet. His soul may have been teared from his body, again, but it would do.

"Tell Hermione and Ron I am sorry, Professor," said Harry, "and tell Sirius that I wished this didn't have to happen."

"I will." Said Dumbledore.

"I am sorry too, Professor. I don't think I will be able to send you any socks for Christmas." The smile Dumbledore gave him was a pained one. Harry smiled, if only to lessen the guilt his mentor was feeling. It surprised him that he didn't have to force it. "It's time, Professor."

Dumbledore sighed. "Is this truly what you wish for, Harry?"

Harry said nothing. Dumbledore sighed again, and pointed the Deathstick high above Harry. And then, he started chanting.

It was not in Latin, clearly. Harry had studied it to some extent and he knew enough to recognize that Dumbledore was speaking in something else. Old English seemed unlikely. Not any magical language, nor anything South American. It was harsh to his ears, too harsh to have been created in this millenia, and Dumbledore's eyes glowed with unearthly power as he continued his chant - and, suddenly, Harry couldn't see him any more, couldn't see anything but Voldemort's corpse and darkness. His wand was in his hand, his brain was functioning, he wasn't dying, and he was cast out of the universe. There would be no Oblivion for him. There would be only the assurance of his continued survival, if he did not end his life himself. This was the path he had chosen, to save the Wizarding World.

The External Dimension, as it had been dubbed, was not a scary place. It was sort of like the Time Chamber in that aspect. The Dimensions were not built by magic, but it was just an idea, if Harry had to bet. It was the idea that there could be places beyond the Universe, and it was due to Harry's belief that he had ended up here.

His eyes went to Voldemort. The Dark Lord was alive, recuperating from the effects of his spell. Letting him live, for something as ridiculous as his company, would be dangerous. No, he would have to kill him.. the question was how. Magic, or his hands?

One way to find out. 'Incendio.'

The corpse caught fire, to Harry's simultaneous distress and relief. Relief, as Voldemort would have no way to come back and distress, as the fire spread rapidly, its hunger to burn insatiable. No water spell stopped it, however well-cast. Even Aqua Erecto, an elemental spell as destructive as Fiendfyre, didn't do what it should have done. Magic worked in funny ways outside the universe it was supposed to be used in, it would seem.

So this is how I will die, Harry thought. Killed while killing my destined foe. Death, at least, was preferable to lonely immortality. He unleashed a wild torrent of water that threatened to turn upon the caster and consume him, but he directed it towards the fire nipping at his feet, more out of a detached interest than a wish to pull one last desperado. The fire remained unaffected. Death it is, Harry thought.

The fire engulfed him, but Harry felt no pain. It was the ultimate form of Occlumency, to not feel pain whenever one wished, and he had mastered it while in Hogwarts. Maybe he would have been able to take Voldemort some years later, without the help of alchemy and rituals that involved giving up his right to cast the Patronus. Being a master Occlumens at his age was an unparalleled feat, certainly. Maybe, just maybe, he would have been better off being in the world, fighting the battle alongside his best friends, going to classes and working on magic that no other would work on. Maybe, after Voldemort had found another body, Harry would have destroyed him. There was always Albus Dumbledore to take care of the wizarding world if Harry died unexpectedly. That idea sounded a lot better than dying an unimaginable distance from the people he loved, killed by his own damn spell.

"Oh, fuck it all." He muttered. Killed by his own spell. There was no way he could have known that his magic would act up outside the world it had originated in, but it was slightly disappointing to die by fire that he had conjured. Death was better than being around for millions of years in the Void, if that was any consolation.

And it was then that he realized there was a pressure building up on top of his head. It was miniscule, at first. He almost hadn't felt it. His mind was occupied with thoughts of the life he had left behind, but the pressure had been there from the beginning. What was it? Had Dumbledore devised a way to bring him back?

The pressure increased, without any warning, to the point where it was unbearable. It felt vaguely like trying to apparate through wards, but no ward would ever be this powerful. Not even the wards in Gringotts.

Voldemort showed no signs of moving. The Void didn't change. He saw the fire burning his body, the flames on his face - and Harry died the most painless death anyone had ever died outside of the known world.

And in a world very much different from the one Harry had thrown himself out of, a teen appeared in a street in Kuoh town with severe burns, feebly clutching a wooden stick in his hand in front of two female Devils.

 **So that's a new story, people! Always wanted to write a Harry Potter/ High School DxD crossover, and, well, here's the beginning. I have a bit of it written, and a lot of it planned already.**

 **Some changes happened in the past that led to events being this different from Canon. Harry is more powerful than Canon!Harry, and all the changes that have occurred lead to Harry sacrificing himself to kill Voldemort permanently. He dies in the Void, but this death results in him ending up in another world - the world of High School DxD.**

 **Be sure to follow, favorite and review! Until next time.**


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